Children of war
by Luna Ardere
Summary: A rough life awaits a small whelp as he learns to take and treasure whatever life offers him. Just a small chapter yet, there will be more. I will maybe rate it T because of violence later.
1. Chapter 1

**Wow belongs to Blizzard, the characters are mine.  
**

*****

There had always been something about him, something that made nobody want to go too near. He always was there though, keeping to the edges, always just out of sight. Nobody cared much about him, they just let him be because it was, as if agreed by some unsaid vote, their responsibility to keep him alive.

He was such a scrawny little thing, dirty and always so hungry. The tribe shared the responsibility of keeping him fed, but it seemed there would never be enough food to put some meat on the little whelp.

At one time the family responsible for feeding him had not done their duty, and from that time onwards he faded even more from the tribe, now only a silent shadow, skulking around at the edges, eating what scraps he found, scaring the other children with his profound, ocean-blue gaze.

His mother had been of the tribe, and thus he was too. The day she had returned to her childhood's home, the strangelooking whelp carried at her breast, the tribe had taken her in with reluctance. She had never told anyone of the child's father, but they all knew he could not be of their own kin. At the time the elders did not approve of mixture of blood between the troll tribes, but they had been swayed by the women who sympathised with his mother. When she died as a strange fever swept through the village, the child was left alone, only cared for by the tribe's women as they felt responsible for him.

As he grew, his bright blue skin, pearly white tusks and dark blue hair made him a constant object for the other children's harassment. He did not fight back, but turned his deep, dark eyes to look at them in sorrow.

He did not speak as early as the other whelps, there being no one to teach him, nor did he seem intelligent or brave, and the elders shook their heads sadly whenever speaking about him. After some years even the name that his mother had given him was but a memory, and everyone referred to him as Rhin, meaning shame or grief.

*****

**A small teaser to a new story that is unfolding in my head. I hope I will find the strenght, time and inspiration to write it. **


	2. Orphans

As soon as Rhin reached the age where he could handle a spear he was sent out with the hunters to provide food for the village. He was hopelessly clumsy and accomplished nothing more than being in the way for the hunting party. More than once he was yelled at or slapped when he let prey get away or failed to be quiet when he should.

He had just turned seven years without anybody, himself included, knowing about it, when a strange disease hit the animal population in Desolace, making it hard to find food enough for the tribe. The hunting parties had to stray further and further from their home beside the sea in search for food. This brought them closer to the elfish population north in Desolace, which again led to some confrontations.

One day, when the hunt had been particularly bad, Rhin managed stab a skimpy rabbit and was basking in the glory of his first kill when there came a caravan on the road near him.

What the elves saw was a child of their enemy alone by the road, and some guards were sent to make sure there was one less troll in the world.

Knowing well enough the elves meant danger, Rhin screamed in despair, and the next moment the hunters came to his aid. The trolls only needed to take one look at the caravan to understand there would be both food and treasure on it. They attacked with all the ferocity of a starving beast that has just eyed the chance of filling its stomach with fresh meat.

Rhin crept under one of the caravan wagons while the battle raged, clutching his skinny rabbit in one hand and his spear in the other. He knew by instinct that the trolls would win, they were stronger though fewer in numbers, more ferocious and had all been trained in combat by Mother Life, who threw you into it and then watched you struggle to survive.

While he was laying there he noticed a sound from above him; a tiny, frightened sound. Crawling out from his shelter he found some steps leading into the wagon and he let his naturally inquisitive nature lead him up and in.

At first everything inside the wagon was dark, so he pulled the curtains at the end apart and found the thing that was making the sound. Wrinkling his nose in surprise and curiosity, Rhin crept over to the blanket that was shaking. His brain put the facts together, like a small child drawing a connect-the-dots-picture, and he realised blankets normally did not whimper. As he pulled it away there was another wail and he hurried to put his hand over the other child's mouth, keeping it quiet.

"Shh," he said, raising a finger to his lips. "Ya no make sound."

The other child did not seem to understand his language, and he stomped his little feet in frustration when it just kept on making the frightened sound. From outside came noises telling him the battle was coming closer, and because he did not know what to do he sat down beside the other child and did something no one had done to him since his mother was alive. As the elfchild felt the comfort of arms around it and hands stroking its hair, it stopped crying and was quiet.

"Come," Rhin told it, pulling on one small hand to make it understand.

He picked up the blanket and a nice, shiny knife while helping the other child out and away from the wagon.

There was a cluster of rocks a little distance from the road, and Rhin found a little hole under one of them. Both children squeezed into the hole and soon they were completely hidden from the outside world. Rhin had a heart of gold despite what his life had taught him, and put his arms around the elfchild again, while whispering soothingly and patting the almost white hair. The sounds of battle soon faded and as the darkness began to fall outside their small sanctuary, the two children fell asleep in the way only little children can fall asleep in the middle of something.

*

It was quiet and dusky when the children awoke. Rhin told the elfchild to stay in the hole, but when he squeezed out, it followed and clung to his hand.

Over by the road there was a huge fire, so they headed towards it. Rhin thoughtfully watched the flames eat the sorry remains of elven wagons while the other child started crying again. Then they searched through the battlefield, but found nothing other than dead bodies, the trolls having taken everything of value.

The elfchild sat down beside one of the bodies, taking one lifeless hand in both its' own, wailing in sorrow. Rhin wandered around and found a spear that was broken so that it was just a little long for him, but still usable. Over by one of the burning wagons he found the charred carcass of what could be considered his first kill, if you weren't counting all the cockroaches he had murdered while training with his spear.

He cut the rabbit into pieces using the rusty knife one of the hunters had given him. Then he put the meat on the tip of his spear and started roasting it on the fire while humming a little tune to himself.

When he had roasted all of the meat, he packed it in a small pouch he had found and went over to get the elfchild. It was still sitting by the dead body and Rhin tried pulling its' hand to get it to come.

"We go," he said, pointing in a random direction. "No stay, be animal here soon."

When he did not get the child to come, he wandered off on his own, but did not get far before he stopped and ran back again.

"Come!" he ordered the child, trying to pry its' hand from the dead elf's. "No safe here!"

In the end he managed to pull the child away from the body and held one small hand firmly in his own.

They hurried across the wasteland, Rhin wanting to get away from the battlefield before the scavengers arrived, and headed towards the mountains where there would be a chance of finding safety.

********

**I'm really busy lately, but I found the time to stitch together this little chapter for you all. Thanks for reading! ^^**


	3. After all these years

**Time is not a straight line ^^ Neither is this story. So we go into the future for a bit. **

*******

The Horde squad lunged forward, like a forceful, armed wave against a beach, focusing their attacks on the biggest of the demons. In the adrenaline heightened rush of battle there was no room for thinking, but still some of them managed to shout insults towards the other group who also was attacking the Fel demons.

Among the Hordes there was a tall, blue figure, his spear as deadly as the sting of the scorpion. He fought in silence, his body moving with purpose, his face a mask of intense concentration.

Suddenly, for the briefest of moments, his focus was broken when something caught his eye. In the group of Alliance soldiers fighting alongside them there was a slim figure he recognised, the flowing silvery hair and burning eyes under the helmet made him loose his footing and stumble a second, before he again found his balance.

When the fight was over, as the two small squads fell back to heal the wounded and recover strength, the trolls in the group huddled together.

"Did ya see dem nite elfsies?" one of them commented, nudging his friend in the ribs with a metalclad elbow. "Ah neva think Ah be fighting beside deir kind."

"Yeah," another one replied. "Curse dem demons an' da Fel twice for makin' us need dem Ally bastards."

The group went silent as one of the trolls stood up and walked down the little hill to where their temporary allies were resting.

Night elves and humans turned to look as he made his way through them. A couple of dwarfs swore under their breath and held their axes a little tighter. When the troll finally stopped before a small group of night elves, the entire squad was paying him attention.

"What do you want, troll?" one of the elves snarled, his slim hand ready to draw the sword.

The troll hunched down and scratched his head nervously.

"Me name be Za'rhin," he replied in common, as politely as he could. "Ah come to say hello to me sista."

The laughter that followed made his eyes narrow and coloured his cheeks a deep shade of purple.

"I don't think any sister of yours can be found here," an officer said kindly, while making a motion behind Za'rhin's back which implied the troll probably had hit his head and did not know what he was doing. "We would be very glad if you could just go back to your own people," the officer continued, wanting to get the crazy troll away before someone found a reason to remove him.

Za'rhin turned to the officer, blue eyes filled with emotion, but not anger.

"Ah want to say hello to me sista," he said once more.

The officer was not an unkind man, but he was starting to feel the uneasiness this troll caused in his squad and inside his head his brain was already showing him pictures of what would happen if anyone attacked one of Hordes, crazy or not.

"Well, where is this sister then?" he sighed.

The night elf the troll's finger pointed at looked shocked and said something in elfish to her friends, who laughed. When the officer beckoned her to come, she stood up and went forward, brilliant eyes watching the troll curiously.

There went a gasp through the people around them as the troll bent down and placed his cheek against the elf's. Blue fingers touched bright hair carefully and his mouth formed a single word. A name, _Arthea_.

To Za'rhin's disappointment the woman drew back and looked at him in anger.

"I don't know you!" she exclaimed. "And I am certainly not your sister! Now go away, you're making us all nervous."

There was a brief smile over the troll's lips before he bowed and turned to walk away. He took one last look at the woman's face and realised just how unfamiliar it was.

*

As night fell over the barren wasteland where the Horde and Alliance continuously fought the Legion, both factions lit fires and set out guards.

There was a good deal of discontentment around the fires in the Horde camp, and the conversations were hushed and angry.

"Ah don see why we have to fite with da Ally bastards," a troll growled. "Ah ratha crush deir puny heads."

"We fight for Thrall," an orc pointed out. "And for the lost homelands. We will not let the demons have it."

"But dere is homans, an' dem little dwarves, an' nite elfsies. An' even some of dem gnomes! Wat is a gnome good fo' but making soup on?" The troll shuddered and smacked his lips at the same time, getting a laugh from some of his buddies. Then he looked up as the troll beside him got to his feet. "Were ya goin' dis time, Za'rhin?"

The bluehaired troll smiled and pointed to the sky above them.

"Stars," he explained.

The trolls around the fire shook their heads at this and sniggered a little, silently agreeing that their friend really was a strange one.

*

Za'rhin sat on a small hill and watched the sky, the stars and planets and meteors dancing around each other. He felt content in a strange way, somehow everything was very calm and pleasant this night. If anyone had seen the secretive smile one his face, they would have wondered what he was thinking of.

He sat still for an hour, and just as he was stretching; joints creaking from being motionless for too long, there was a sound from behind.

"I'm sorry."

He nodded, not even turning his head to look at her. Then there was the feeling of a presence beside him as she sat down.

"I was taken by surprise. I did not expect to see you."

Again nothing but a nod, and when she spoke again her voice was filled with sorrow.

"It's been twenty years, Rhin!"

He turned to her then and smiled at the tears in her eyes. She had not really changed that much. She had grown up, but there was still the little child he once had known deep inside those eyes.

"No," he said. "It been nineteen years, an' some moons an' weeks."

A smile spread across her face, just like it had done all those years ago when he had tried his best to keep the sorrow from her mind by doing all sorts of silly things.

"The officers have told us we're going east tomorrow, they need us up at Shatter point."

"We be goin' to Falcon watch," Za'rhin said, turning to look at the sky again.

There was a brief silence, and the elf used it to move a little closer to this enemy creature she once had loved. In her mind there was a picture of a wild and strange little trollwhelp who had been her brother, and though he still felt the same way to her keen senses he was also so very different.

His hair was still long and wild, his eyes still full of joy, but there was something new about all of him. Without thinking she touched the rough skin on the back of the hand laying on the cold stone between them. When she looked up into his face she blushed at the look she got.

"It is the strangest thought," she said, withdrawing her hand. "That once that hand was my comfort. That once we were family, and now we are strangers."

"Ya still got pretty hair," Za'rhin laughed, capturing a strand of silver between two fingers.

She looked up at him with an ocean of feelings flowing through her body. There was the comfort she had felt back then, how he made her feel safe and warm and protected. And then there was the slightly worrying feeling as she watched this tall troll hold a piece of her hair like he owned it. In a way she wished she could be back at the camp, back with her friends and her lover, and at the same time she wanted to sit on that hilltop forever.

"You changed your name," she said, wanting to escape from the thrill he gave her just by being close.

"Yeah."

She waited for an explanation, and when she did not get one she had to ask him:

"What does it mean? Why did you change it?"

"Rhin mean shame."

"Yes, I remember."

"An' now Ah not be shame no more. Ah be warrior, Ah be hunter, Ah be fighta, strong."

She nodded to agree that he was all that.

"Za'rhin means… Ah not know how to say… _Aftha shame_. It also mean sadness, sorrow."

"Are you sad?"

He answered the question like he always had done when they had talked about something he did not want to. She barely managed to avoid being caught in his arms and dived away.

"We're not children anymore," she laughed. "You can't avoid talking to me with tickling now."

There was a flash of joy in deepblue eyes.

"Ya wanna bet?"

*

When Za'rhin gave up on tickling her and the laughter had died away, he still held her in his arms. Her heart beat violently as he closed long arms around her body and clutched her to his chest.

"Ya still be me sista," he whispered down in her hair. "Ya will always be."

"I know. You will always be my brother too."

He looked up at the sky again and drew in the familiar smell of her. It triggered memories he had not remembered for a very long time.

She stayed in his arms half the night before she had to go back. As she left they embraced, knowing it could be the last time, and knowing they would have to be strangers if they met amongst others.

"I have too much to loose," she explained. "They would never understand if I told them."

"Ah know. We are secret family. But Ah always love ya."

She pressed her face against his shoulder then, to hide the pain and tears she knew shone in her eyes.

****

**If I had an adopted brother like that I would.... well... you know ;D**

**Thanks for reading and thanks for being patient when I am slow at updating. I'm sorry there's not much story these days, but I just can't find the time.**


	4. Dis be da last time

_Dis be da last time Ah see ya, sista. Dis be da last time Ah dry tears from dem eyes. Ah know dis, an' ya do not, but it still be real. _

_Look at da sky now, sista. Da sky be bleedin' red. Dis new enemy is danger, is death. Ah will not escape dis battle, but maybe ya can. _

_Little sista, Ah see ya friends dere, Ah see ya kin, dey be afraid, dey be dyin'. Ah still remember dat time in the city, when ya could not speak to me, but Za'rhin never be angry, Ah want to say to you. _

_See dem unlivin' people; dem new enemy, see dem be killin' all my kin, all my friends. An' still, it matter not to Za'rhin if da little sista can run, ya can escape. Take dem friends; dem beautiful friends, an' run like a storm away from dis death, away from dis frozen end of da world. _

_Ah see ya run now sista, an' all is peace, an' all is silence. Now more fite, no more for me. _

_Da ground is my bed, it wraps me in comfort. Ah can see da beat of my heart 'neath my skin, gettin' weak. Ah know; dis be my blood. It be alright. No more regret._

Arthea fought with every bit of strength left in her body, but still it was not enough. The enemy was too strong, too many. Her thoughts went to the one who had danced out of nowhere and told her to go home, go home to peace. He had dried her eyes and smiled, before telling her husband to take her away and give her a good life.

"If we live, we meet at da birdrock," was the last thing she heard from his lips before the orc captain leading the Horde-soldiers had turned to their allies.

"This is where we die," he had told the elves, dranei, humans, gnomes and dwarfs, looking them over with eyes that told the truth. "But all of you go back to the cities and chiefs and tell them what happened here. You warn them that soon, soon the blood will flow over the world and there will be no escape. You tell them the real battle will soon begin!"

A cry went up from the orcs, and the other races of the Horde joined in:

"Lok'tar! For the Horde!"

Arthea turned together with the rest of her squad and before she realised what they were doing; they had begun to run. On each side of them there were warriors rushing forward towards the danger; warriors who were ready to give their lives so that their lifelong enemies would escape and live to face another day, warriors draped in red and black, their skins blue, green or furred, warriors who lived for the rush of battle.

The little group of elves barely heard their friend's scream over the ruckus of a thousand battle-crazed orcs, but when they saw Arthea had turned and were running back again, they followed.

She had not seen him go down. It was a feeling in her chest that had made her turn and see him through the running legs and hooves. Realising he probably wanted her to go the other way she ran towards him, every breath painful in her lungs. When reaching him she fell to her knees and knew it was too late.

"Rhin!" she screamed in desperation, and lifted his limp hand to her chest.

There was no pulse, no breath left in his body. The blood around him was slowly turning into crystals in the frozen air, flowing down into the frozen ground and snow.

She clutched his large frame to her, screaming in anger and rage, wishing for him to open his blue eyes and live once more.

"'Thea," her husband's voice came as he grabbed her firmly. "He is gone. He wanted you to be safe. Please, come."

She let go of the heavy body and looked down at the peaceful face.

"He is my brother!" she sobbed as her husband pried loose her fingers from the blue, bloodsoaked hair.

"I know. He will always be."

Arthea nodded slowly, as if in a state of trance. She watched her husband put the body down on the ground again, before pulling off a chained glove to carefully close the troll's eyes.

"Goodbye," he said, before grabbing his wife to carry her away from the battle, into the safety that the Horde now was buying with their lives.

****

**I'm sorry.**

**First because I haven't updated in forever. My computer died, and I got a new one just yesterday. Plus I have been super-busy with work.**

**Secondly, I have to appologise for the incoherence in this story. It is not like me to write a lot of fragments and nothing more, I like my stories to follow a very clear line, but I'm sorry to say; writing is not my number one priority these days. **

**Thirdly. I'm sorry I had to kill Za'rhin. I love him dearly, but that's the way the story is. It is not finished. I'll see if I can upload the new chapter later today ^^**

**Thanks for reading :)  
**


	5. Frozen

The first feeling that hit Za'rhin when he awoke was confusion. Then came the instinct to draw breath and he felt the air he gasped into his lungs sting like cold needles. Everything around him was covered in a thin layer of frost; even his hair and hands were white.

And then the voice came. It spoke straight into his head and commanded him to stand. Shaking with the effort, Za'rhin got to his feet and felt his body move forward on its own accord. Even as much as it scared him to feel he was not in control of himself, the knowledge that he had died scared him even more.

His legs walked over to a man, or at least the creature was man-shaped, although the heavy dark armour he wore made it difficult to determine just what he was. As Za'rhin fell to his knees before the man the troll felt a strange presence, a power; strong and sharp as ice.

Again the voice spoke, it commanded and comforted inside Za'rhin's mind and convinced the troll that this had to be the God of the lands of death. When the voice was silent Za'rhin watched, as from somewhere outside himself, his body stand up and leave the presence of the God to be clad in heavy, dark armour and given a sword.

Then everything was in a haze. He knew there was battle, he could see the bloodstained hands that used to be his, and he could feel the cold steel of the sword and armour. There were screams from those who fought against him and figures beside him, with the same armour and a frozen glow in their eyes.

For a moment he managed to find control of his body again and stalled his blade. In front of him there was another troll, kneeling on the ground with his hands tied behind his back.

"Don ya recognize me, Za'rhin?" the troll asked, his voice filled with pure desperation.

Za'rhin struggled against his own muscles as his arms shivering held the sword to the other one's neck.

"Za'rhin!" the troll begged. "Don do dis! Ah can see he has a grip on ya, but ya can break it! Fight it! Fight him!"

Za'rhin did not hear the words clearly, they were but an echo into the place his mind dwelled. The other voice was there too, clear and strong, telling him what to do.

"Ah see ya be gone, mah friend," the trolls sighed. "Then get dis over with, an' Ah will be prayin' to the Loa for ya soul."

As he watched the dead body on the ground, Za'rhin did remember one thing; a name, but it escaped his mind again as the strong voice of the God filled him once more.

*

The next time his mind surfaced for the cold haze that suppressed it, the world around him was strange to his eyes. At first he thought it had to be sunset, because everything seemed to be bathed in a red light, and then he realized it was the rain.

Heavy drops of red fell on his armour, and where his skin was bare they stained it from blue to a sickening purple. Za'rhin raised his hands and watched the drops that hit them in fascination.

"Come, brother," a large orc with shining blue eyes said. "He calls us."

Za'rhin followed the orc to the place where the rest of the army waited, and found his place beside a tall nightelf. For the second time since he had awoken he felt himself doubting what they were doing. He studied the faces around him, the strange glow in their eyes, and wondered if his own eyes were the same, if his own face had the same frozen look.

When the battle began the voice took control again and washed the doubt away.

They fought hard and long; every sword dripping with red and dark armour drenched in blood. Then the enemies opened before them, letting through a figure that was too bright to look directly at as he seemed to be bathed in a strong light.

There was the shape of a man inside the light, a man who now spoke into their minds with just as much power and command as the God of death had. In a few moments the battle died away as the dark warriors stopped fighting, looking at each other in bewilderment and fear.

Za'rhin could see the glowing man speak to the God in the dark armour, but he did not know what they were saying, and then the dark God disappeared.

There was a second of absolute silence before the screams began.

Swords fell to the ground, people pulled at their dark armour in an attempt to get it off, some were kneeling in silence and awe.

Za'rhin felt the cold presence inside his mind dissolve and the pain it had been holding of rushed in on him with the knowledge of all he had done. It was too much to bear and he fell to the ground, his body shaking, and began to throw up. Around him the rest of the army panicked, but they had no where to go because the forces of light had surrounded them.

Za'rhin gasped for air and threw up again, but this time there was an arm supporting him, keeping him from collapsing. He looked up into the glowing eyes of a large tauren, who nodded slightly and then shifted his grip on the troll so he was supported against his side. Za'rhin pressed his burning forehead against the cold breastplate and felt his body tremble with violent sobs.

Like a flock of sheep the dark warriors were driven into two separate portals, and soon the dead heroes of the Horde stood in front of the orc capital. There were guards around them, with angry eyes, who snarled at them if they tried moving in the wrong direction.

Like a wave of scared, armoured animals the death knights were herded into the city towards its center.

"Where are we going?" a female undead asked an orc beside her.

"They're taking us to see Thrall. To swear our loyalty to the Horde."

Za'rhin stumbled forward at one edge of the flock when suddenly something wet hit his face. Shocked he cleaned the rotten fruit of his face and turned to look at the merchant who had thrown it.

"Filth! Traitors!"

People started to shout around them, throwing dirt and rocks or whatever they had to throw. As a stone hit Za'rhin in the ear he lost his footing and fell, but was hauled back up.

"I got you," the huge tauren from before told him, shielding the troll's head with a large hand.

For Za'rhin the walk through the city that had once been his home, was the worst thing he had ever had to face.

There were familiar faces in the crowd, faces who had smiled at him or wished him a good day. Now they were angry, infuriated, and the hands of friends threw things at him in an attempt to hurt or scorn.

When he knelt and swore his allegiance to the Horde for the second time in his life it was like in a dream, and he felt cold and alone.

Afterwards, when he managed to find a quiet spot away from the eyes of the citypeople, he cried.

"Crying gives you headache," a booming voice told him as his tauren friend settled down beside him. "That's what my mother say."

"But Ah be dead," Za'rhin mumbled. "Ah be dead, but not dead, an' Ah be scared. More scared dan Ah ever be!"

The tauren did not reply to this, but leaned back against the rockwall behind them. After a long pause he looked down at the troll, taking a deep breath.

"I am Terrian. That is my name. I still want it. Because it is mine."

Za'rhin was surprised at this statement. The tauren had seemed so untouched by the circumstances, but now he realised that it was only on the outside, inside he was as torn as the troll.

"Ah be Za'rhin." Hands locked for a instant and in that small moment they both felt normal again.

"Yea, Ah be Za'rhin. Dat be me."

*****

**I don't think this is the end. There is more chapters somewhere. But at least he has found Terrian and he's not alone. I'll leave him there in the very capable hands of his friend for a while.**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	6. Ancestors of the land

Autumn had come to Desolace before the troll and tauren reached the birdrock, a jagged stone-formation in the north part of the dark and stony desert. There were cold winds blowing, howling against the two travelers, and the sun did only rarely break through the grey clouds.

During their journey the two death knights had come closer to each other. Za'rhin had early on understood that if there was going to be some sort of conversation, it would be up to him. The tauren was of a silent and reserved nature, only speaking when spoken to and only if he could not reply with a grunt or a motion of his head. This was why Za'rhin was clearly shocked when his friend one evening took the initiative to speak.

"This is a night I need to go away," he told the troll while looking at the stars.

"Go where? Ya be leavin' me?"

"No, just go to rocky place, up there," a huge finger pointed to a cluster of rocks on a little hill some distance away. "And I will talk to the ancestors of this land."

Realizing this was so important to the tauren that he had actually spoken two whole sentences, Za'rhin started to prepare camp for the night, while his friend went to speak to his ghosts.

*

Terrian stopped on the top of the hill and looked down on the barren lands below him.

"Come speak to me, old spirits," he said, sprinkling a handful of the Desolace sand into the cold nightwinds. "Come hear this son of the land. Answer my heart."

He waited a long time before they came. The first one was a ghost wolf running here and there before it found its way up to the hill. Some minutes later a female tauren, a long staff of wood in her see-through hands, walked up to the rock where Terrian sat.

"We are the spirits of this land, and you have called to us," she said, her voice like an echo in the wind.

Terrian felt, for the first time since his death, like a tauren again. Talking to the ancestors was something as natural as breathing to his race, but lately it had felt wrong to him, like he was defiling this ancient ritual by being what he was. He had so many thoughts and feelings he wanted the ancestors to hear, but now the words stopped in his throat.

He thought about his death, the service to Arthas and how he had survived after being released from the Lich King's frozen grip. The ancestors just looked at him in anticipation, but he knew they were looking into his mind, seeing the thoughts he could not speak.

"There is something you avoid thinking of," the female ghost told him. "That what concerns you the most."

Terrian turned his head and let his eyes rest for a second on the little light he knew was a far-off campfire, and sighed.

"I am concerned for him," he admitted to the two ghosts. "He is so wounded, and I am using that weakness to keep myself strong."

When he realised he had actually spoken the words out loud he heard how absolutely horrible it sounded, and still, it was the truth. He fed of the other's sorrow and pain to keep his own regrets and grief away.

"You are using him, because he is broken," the ghost told him. "And you think this is wrong?"

Closing his eyes, Terrian remembered all those nights he had gently patted the blue hair when the troll had screamed and cried in his sleep, how it had kept his own bad dreams at bay when he was worried about someone else. He answered the ghost with a nod.

"And you think he does not know?" the ancestor continued. "His mind is as straight and sharp as his spear, and he understands more about your friendship than you realise, my son."

*

Za'rhin was resting against a rock when the tauren came back. Looking up he saw the determination and calmness in Terrian's eyes and smiled.

"Ah take it talkin' to ya ancestors was a good thing to do."

The tauren sat down beside him and patted Za'rhin's blue locks with one huge hand.

"Sorry, but I will be your friend a long time," Terrian told the troll, leaning back to look at the starry sky.

"Ah know. An' Ah be sorry, but Ah gonna need you to be mah friend a long time."

When the fire burned out they were both asleep on the dusty ground, but Terrian awoke a little while later to find his friend sobbing as he slept. The tauren placed one massive arm over the slim body beside him and smiled as he felt Za'rhin relax and fall back into his dreams.

"Thank you," he whispered and closed his eyes.

*****

**Just a little scene I wrote while I was having the flu.**

**This is how Terrian feels and I just wanted to explain their friendship a bit, they need each other, but there's nothing romantic about it (someone was concerned that there might be...) They're just a little broken and torn, and they have each other, that's all they have got. **

**And just for fun, because Lu has the flu, and likes quizzes: I was thinking of making a Lu-lore-quiz sometime and write something for the winner, what do you all think?**


	7. At the birdrock

It had been more years than he could count since Za'rhin had last seen the birdrock, but it had not changed a whole lot. Its sharp profile was still outlined against the grey sky over the wasteland, though the years had made its beak more bent and torn off one of its wings.

"Big bird," Terrian pointed out, lifting one hand to touch the stoneformation.

Za'rhin showed his tauren friend where he and his little elven sister had spent that year together. The cave held memories which made him smile and close his eyes, memories of the year when he figured out who he was, and the fact that he could be anything if he just wanted it enough. He had cared for both of them, hunted and cooked, kept them warm with fire and sung his sister to sleep every night with the strange tones of songs he could barely remember from when his mother had been alive.

"I was somethin'," he whispered, placing his cheek against the rough, cold cavewall. "I was so much more than what I am now. Why can Ah not feel ya sista? Why be ya not here?"

He knew there had been over two years since his death and that he could not expect her to sit around and wait in the wastelands for all that time, but still he felt alarmed in a strange way when he could not feel her presence there at all.

"We wait here," he told the tauren.

*

They waited. Days and nights turned into weeks, and then, one particularly sunny autumn-evening, someone was coming up the path to the birdrock.

It was Terrian who first saw them and placed a heavy hand on the troll's shoulder.

"Elfsies," Za'rhin nodded. "Dey be comin' here."

His eyes searched the little crowd as they came closer, but found one face missing. Some of the faces he remembered from before, from the battle or the other times he had met her, and knew them as her friends.

"Dere's her mate, den she cannot be far away," he told the tauren with an uncertain smile, and ignored the large hand that gripped his shoulder even tighter.

The elves came around the last bend in the path and saw the two death knights. The flowers and wreaths they were carrying was swiftly replaced by weapons when they found themselves face to face with the enemy.

Arthea's husband stepped out in front of the others and beckoned them to put the weapons away again. For a moment the elf and troll just stared at each other, but eventually one of them found the strength to speak.

"So," the elf said slowly, looking Za'rhin over with pity in his eyes. "That is how it is."

"Yeah," Za'rhin said, nodding his head and feeling a cold fear throughout his body.

The elf spoke to his companions in their own language before turning to the two again.

"I did not expect to find you here, troll," the elf continued. "I thought you were dead, but here you are." He paused, stroking his bearded chin thoughtfully, and there was something in his manner that made Za'rhin afraid to ask what he wanted.

"Arthea?" he croaked, feeling Terrian's grip on his shoulder tighten to the point where it hurt.

"I am sorry." Her husband lowered his head and looked at the flowers in his hands. "She left this world not long after you did."

The elves were shocked by the reaction this caused in the troll; he put his hands over his face and the tall body shivered. Then he looked at them, eyes filled with desperation and tears, and screamed. Za'rhin tore himself away from the tauren's grip and turned to the mountain to scream again. His fists smashed into the rock before the tauren gripped the now bloody hands in a grasp as hard as steel and forced Za'rhin to calm down.

To their mutual surprise Arthea's husband came forward and placed his hand on the troll's shoulder.

"I am sorry, I did not realise how much she meant to you."

The other elves watched in confusion as the troll cried silently, the frozen glow in his eyes flickering with every tear.

"She talked of you constantly," Arthea's husband explained, his voice trembling. "After you died, that is. She told me everything about how you helped her and kept her safe. I think it was a comfort to her to know you gave your life so we could get away."

"Did she die in battle?" Za'rhin asked, trying to shut out images of her beautiful face blooded and torn.

"No, she died in our bed."

"How?"

The elf turned to the rest of his party and when he turned back he held a small elfgirl in his arms.

"This is Aletha," he said, holding the child up so the troll could see her better. "She is almost two years old now. Arthea was pregnant with her without us knowing it when... when we were saved by the Horde."

Za'rhin crouched down, trying not to seem intimidating to the child, and held out a hand for her to touch. Fingers as small as little twigs poked the blue skin inquisitive and the girl giggled.

"This is you uncle Za'rhin," her father told her, kneeling down and placing the child on his knee. His eyes met Za'rhin's a second and the troll nodded with a smile.

"Ah be ya uncl'," he told the girl. "Ya scary, blue uncl' Za. Ah be ya motha's brotha."

The girl did not understand his words, but it did not matter; her face was smiling and her little hands grabbed blue fingers without fear.

While the elves showed Za'rhin where they had raised a holy stone in Arthea's memory and laid down their flowers, the troll was pleasantly surprised to be allowed to carry the little girl. He held her as if she was the most precious treasure in the world, laughing when she pulled at his blue dreadlocks and smiling pleased when she eventually fell asleep against his shoulder.

The elves and the troll shared their stories with each other and found it comforting and fascinating that despite being on different sides their lives held more or less the same concerns, joys and sorrows.

As the sky turned dark they said farewell by the birdrock. Arthea's husband took Za'rhin's hand and held it for a second.

"I would say; _come see us sometime._ But I don't think that would work."

Za'rhin nodded without a word before turning to Terrian and their mounts.

"Good luck," the elf said. "I hope you will find peace."

Again Za'rhin nodded. As he mounted he smiled sadly and told the elf:

"Ya take care of her, make her strong as her motha, and wise as her fatha."

He looked at the child one final time and then he pulled on the reins, turning the horse around.

Soon there was nothing behind the two companions than the dustcloud whirled into the air by the horses' hooves.

*****

**And that's it. Maybe I'll write a small outro. I like them. I hope you enjoyed the story even though it did not end happily. **

**Thanks for reading ^^**


End file.
